


Crush to Crash

by imagineteamfreewill



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Car Accidents, F/M, the paramedics and an ambulance come, the reader is in a car accident
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 23:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18083165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagineteamfreewill/pseuds/imagineteamfreewill
Summary: The reader has a crush on Dean but thinks that he considers her to be like a sister. After a heated argument, she storms off and gets into a car accident. Dean finds her and she overhears him talking while unconscious.





	Crush to Crash

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my tumblr account of the same name on March 3rd, 2015 and was edited on March 11th, 2019.

“Come on, Y/N, let’s go!” Dean shouted, leaving against the side of the Impala’s open trunk as he waited for you to catch up with him and Sam.

You rolled your eyes and swung your bag over your shoulder, walking out of the bunker and shutting the steel door firmly behind you. “I’m coming, I’m coming! Geez!”

Dean took your back from you and stuffed it into the trunk with his and Sam’s bags, then slammed it shut. You flinched, and he laughed.

_Stop that,_  you commanded yourself when your heart skipped a beat at the sound. You had been living with Sam and Dean so long you were practically their little sister, and nothing was going to happen between the two of you.

“You’re running late, as always,” Dean grumbled, but he was smiling. Your own playful grin peeked out as you rolled your eyes again. He laughed, ruffling your hair before going around to the driver’s side. As he climbed into his own seat, you tugged open the door to the back and slid inside, settling in the middle and leaning forward so you could rest your arms on the back of the front seat.

“So where’s this hunt again?” you asked as Dean started the car and pulled away from the bunker.

“Colombia, Louisiana,” Sam replied, cutting off Dean when he tried to answer you. “There’s a demon problem and I found out the brother of an old friend—Jake—from Stanford lives there. Jake was visiting him and was murdered yesterday morning. When I saw the Facebook post I figured it’d be worth checking out.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “It’s the least we can do, even if—”

“Even if they don’t know about it,” you finished. Dean had said that same thing to you before when you’d griped about not getting any kind of acknowledgement for your work as a hunter and you’d never forgotten it.

Clearly remembering the conversation as well, Dean shot you a look and you looked down at your lap. No matter how much you liked Dean, he treated you like a sister—often reprimanding you and reminding you of the things you didn’t want to remember. He teased you constantly, poking fun at your fumbles and messed up words, and the fact that you got flustered around him. Of course, he just thought you were just always that clumsy, not just because you got nervous around him. Dean had no clue you’d liked him all these years.

Sighing, you leaned back against the back seat and watched the road fly by. Dean turned on the radio and twisted the knob to turn it up even louder.

“Dude, how can you even hear anymore?” Sam asked, glancing at him before reaching over and turning down the music. Dean only grinned and turned it up again before beginning to loudly sing along, ignoring the annoyed look on his brother’s face.

You laughed and watched from the backseat. Dean always looked happiest when he was in his Impala, the music up and the windows down. When he heard you, Dean looked up and met your eyes in the rearview mirror. You smiled a tiny bit, trying hard not to blush when he didn’t look away. Instead of making a remark on how he caught you staring at him, Dean simply smiled for a split-second, then went back to drumming on the steering wheel.

After a day of driving, the three of you finally crossed the city limits.

“Colombia, Louisiana, population—374,” you read as you passed the welcome sign on the outskirts of town. “Business must be booming.” Both boys nodded in response. “Are we staying at your friend’s house? Or are we doing the whole motel thing again?”

“Yes, Y/N, we’re doing the whole “motel thing” again,” Sam teased.

You kicked the back of his seat. “There’s no need to mock me, Sam Winchester. I was just asking.”

Dean shot you a glance in the mirror and you stuck your tongue out at him. Driving for twelve hours with the Winchester brothers was not something you could come out of with your temper and sanity intact, and that meant that neither you nor the boys were acting one-hundred percent mature. No one ever came out of the long drives without snapping at someone.

The second the car was parked in the motel lot, you climbed and stretched your arms above your head, groaning as your back popped and shifted back into place. Your shirt rode up slightly, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Dean staring.

“What do you want?” you asked.

Dean shook his head. “Your shirt is short.”

“So?” You crossed your arms in front of you, cocking an eyebrow.

“So you shouldn’t be wearing that short of a shirt. It’s unprofessional,” he replied.

“Unprofessional?” you scoffed. “Pretending to be an FBI agent is unprofessional, Dean. Wearing a crop top isn’t unprofessional.” He narrowed his eyes at you and took a small step closer, standing your ground. It wasn’t the first time you had argued over something insignificant with Dean. Your arguments were definitely something that made your relationship with him anything but romantic.

“Fine. Whatever, Y/N. Do whatever you want. I’m just trying to make this easier on all of us,” he finally conceded, shoving the driver’s side door closed.

“Whatever.”

You stalked off towards the motel office to collect your key from Sam, then took your key and your bag and headed towards your room. Sam and Dean had always given you your own motel room and you’d never been able to figure out why. They didn’t have a problem with living in the bunker with you, but every time the three of you stayed in a motel, they insisted on you having your own room.

Exhausted, you pushed the door to your room open and made a beeline for the bed. Your bag found its place on the end of the mattress, and you immediately flopped down on the bed, kicking your shoes off as you stared up at the ceiling. The air conditioning unit near the window kicked on, filling the room with a harsh whir. You let the sound fill your mind, establishing itself in your brain and demolishing any other thoughts that tried to pop up. After the long car ride, you just wanted to sleep.

* * *

You awoke to a harsh knock at your door. Bleary-eyed and wary, you grabbed your gun and shuffled to the door. It was still dark outside, and you couldn’t image that the boys would be at the motel instead of the local bar.

“Who’s there?” you asked, the sleep in your voice making your words slur together.

“It’s me, Y/N,” answered Dean’s voice from the other side of the door. Surprised, you stood up straighter and ran your fingers through your hair in an attempt to look put-together. “Come on, Y/N, let me in!”

You sighed and opened the door. “Good morn—evening, Dean,” you grumbled.

Mentally wincing at the lame greeting, you stepped aside so he could come inside. You shut the door behind him, cutting off the flow of hot, humid night air that had been steadily coming into your room since you first opened the door.

“Okay,” Dean began as you clicked on the safety on your gun and set it back down on the nightstand. “We figured out where the demons are holed up, so you know the drill—you stay here and salt the doors and windows, and we’ll call you when we’re done. Alright, kid?”

“What? No! Dean, I’m coming with.”

“Y/N, you’re not coming with. It’s too dangerous.” Dean pulled the container of salt out of your bag and started to line the window sills with it. Irritated, you crossed the room and grabbed his arm, yanking him away from the window. The salt spilled onto the motel floor, scattering underneath the bed and air conditioning unit in the process.

“I’ve been on hunts far more dangerous than this, Dean! You know that I can do this. Why won’t you let me come?” Your voice had risen in volume and you were sure that your face was bright red with anger. Dean stood facing you, the expression on his face conflicted, as if there was something he wanted to tell you but part of him was hesitating. “Give me one reason, Dean Winchester. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go on this hunt.”

“It’s not safe,” he answered after a moment.

You rolled your eyes. “Who ever heard of a safe hunt? What makes this one any different?”

“Because—” Dean trailed off, clearly trying to think of an excuse.

You held up your hand and closed your eyes, not wanting to argue anymore. “You know what, Dean? I don’t want to hear it. I’m sick of you coming up with excuses and nagging me. “We have to do what’s right, even though no one will notice,”” you mocked. “”Family doesn’t give up on each other, family does this, family does that.” Well you know what? I’m not part of your family. I’m not a Winchester. I’m the farthest thing from it. I’m not brave, I’m not smart. I’m not selfless. I’m the kind of person who wants to be recognized for what they’ve done. I don’t care about looking unprofessional. We weren’t even on a  _case,_ this morning, Dean! We were in the  _motel parking lot!_

“I’m done. I’m done with you, I’m done with Sam, I’m done with all of this. I’m going on this hunt, and you can try and stop me. But Dean?” He looked up, and you were surprised to see that his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “Don’t try and stop me,” you finished, jabbing a finger at him.

Flinging open the door, you stalked out into the parking lot and glanced around. You hesitated to take the Impala, though; you may have been pissed at Dean but you still cared about him, and taking the Impala would only widen the chasm you had just created between the two of you. So, you took the second-best option and broke into a car parked on the farthest edge of the lot, then hotwired it with ease. After all, you’d learned from the best.

As you sped off in the two-seater you had taken, you saw Dean standing outside your open room with panic evident on his face. Tears were burning in your eyes, but you ignored them as you drove faster and faster down the Louisiana road. You turned the radio up as far as it would go in hopes of drowning out the voices in your head, telling you to turn back and apologize—telling you that Dean was only trying to protect you from the things unseen. You ignored them, too. You ignored everything but the music playing and your foot on the gas, the wind rushing by as your vision crashed to black in a screeching halt.

* * *

“Tell me! Tell me if she’s going to be okay or not!” a voice demanded.

Woozily, you tried to open your mouth to speak, to tell this person that you were fine and ask why they were shouting. Your tongue felt thick in your mouth and your eyes felt glued shut, and after a long moment your instincts kicked in. The initial panic of waking up to someone shouting faded as you stayed still in hopes that they would keep talking. If you couldn’t speak or open your eyes to get information, you might as well get it from someone who knew what was going on.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

_Dean? I thought he was back at the motel?_

“I’m so sorry,” Dean said, his voice soft and filled with regret. “I was trying so hard to protect you. The demon, he was going after you, after everyone we loved most. He got Sam’s friend, and he was going to get you, too. I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since the day we met. The first words out of your mouth untangled all the loose ends in my life and put it all back together, and now I don’t know what I’d do without you. I couldn’t take you yelling at me back at the motel. I shouldn’t have let you leave. I just want to keep you safe.”

You felt something drip onto your face and after a second, you realized that Dean was crying. The urge to wrap your arms around him made you want to open your eyes more than anything. You wanted to tell Dean that it was okay, that you understood—that you loved him.

Those thoughts were enough motivation for you to move. You started with your eyes, slowly blinking them open and squinting up in the darkness to try and find Dean. You could hear sirens, and as they started growing louder you managed to ask, “Dean? Why are there sirens?”

A small sob escaped him. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he murmured. You smiled slightly.

“Of course I’m alright. Are we… Am I on the ground? Dean, was I in an accident?”

Trying to shift positions and look around, you winced as your entire right side lit up with white-hot pain. It subsided when Dean pressed you back down against the asphalt, insisting that you stay still. Once he pulled his hands away, you took in your surroundings as best as you could while not moving. There was a car on fire to your right, smashed into a tree that was slowly burning as well.

“Dean, what… what happened?”

“You were speeding. You spun out and hit the tree. We’re lucky I was following you in the car.”

You nodded slightly as the ambulance pulled up behind him. “Dean… I heard what you said.” Dean opened his mouth to speak, but you continued, ”I love you too.”

He smiled through his tears, his hand finding yours and squeezing lightly. You squeezed back. Soon enough you were swarmed with paramedics, but Dean stayed by your side as they asked you questions. He answered everything you couldn’t, going so far as to get Sam on the phone to ask if your fake insurance would cover the ambulance ride to the hospital.

_He really does care about me,_  you thought when you caught his eye.

As you were loaded into the back of the ambulance, Dean asked, “Is she going to be okay?”

“She’ll be alright, she’s tough,” the EMT on your right responded.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Dean whispered to you as he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

You smiled slightly and met his eyes. “Crash and burn?” you joked.

He laughed half-heartedly as the gurney was pushed into the vehicle and the doors shut behind you, promises of to meet you at the hospital lost in the slam of the metal. The ambulance started up and you smiled once again to yourself as the familiar rumble of Dean’s car trailed behind you the entire way.


End file.
